


Before John Watson

by highlytrainedfangirl



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Substance Abuse, happy ending i swear, referenced drug usage, then a bit of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-29
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-08-18 12:30:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8162116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/highlytrainedfangirl/pseuds/highlytrainedfangirl
Summary: Before he had John, Sherlock's life was hell. But somehow one man was able to completely turn it all around.





	

He was alone. He'd always been alone. That's just the way it was. Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective, heartless sociopath. That's what everyone knew him as and he was perfectly fine letting them believe their assumptions. He'd never cared what others had thought of him before, yes their words hurt, but their opinions didn't matter. He could cope on his own.  
Until he realised he didn't want to.  
John Watson strode into his life and all of a sudden everything he had been before was irrelevant. He didn't want to be that cold, heartless bastard. He didn't want to be nothing more than a calculating machine. Because John made him want to express all of those feeling he'd kept hidden for years. He made him want to scream professions of love from the rooftops.  
It scared him at first. His emotions had never taken control of him in such a way, and certainly not feelings towards a single person. But there John stood, proud and strong, a constant presence by Sherlock’s side.

 

He hadn't always locked away his feelings. As a child he'd been open and expressive and, while he'd hate to admit it, he was an incredibly emotional child. Even so, he lacked tact and other children avoided him as he spewed facts about them that ‘no one could possible know’. They were scared of him. They called him a freak and a monster.  
He told Mycroft that they were all idiots, that he didn't care. Mycroft saw through him, but he said nothing. Honestly, Sherlock wasn't sure if he'd have preferred it if he had. Maybe it wouldn't have led to him continuing to hide his emotions the way he did.

From then on, he lied. He told everyone that he was fine by himself, that he hated all other people, that he didn't feel. And people believed him. They were all too eager to accept that the freak had no emotion.

Redbeard’s death was the final straw. It was no longer a case of convincing the world he didn't feel, it was a case of convincing himself. 

Over time it only became worse. His teenage years were absolute hell. Loneliness gave way to depression, gave way to substance abuse. It was a habit he carried over into adulthood, as much as he tried not to. Sherlock wasn’t an idiot, he was a chemist for God’s sake; he knew what he was doing to his body. He just couldn't bring himself to care. The high was addictive and he experienced bliss like nothing else before.  
He only tried escaping once one of the other boys at his school found him barely alive behind one of the classrooms. The police had been called when he panicked at the unconscious body slumped against the filthy wall.  
Sherlock still suffered relapses, he still fell down into the darkness of his own mind. But at least now he tried to escape.

 

John Watson was something he never could have predicted. He never thought he could possibly _deserve_ someone as perfect as John. For once in his life, Sherlock met someone who didn't called him a freak or a psycho, didn't tell him to piss off. He called him amazing, fantastic, brilliant. He smiled widely like no one ever had. It was beautiful. It was the most beautiful thing Sherlock had ever seen.  
Not only did John praise him he _wanted_ to move in with him. _Someone wanted to move in with him_. And God, living with John was the best time of his life. Yes, they argued and disagreed and Sherlock may or may not have been at fault for the masses of experiments littering the kitchen. But they were happy together.  
The exhilaration of a case was amplified with John by his side. And when he returned home, he wasn't faced with the crippling loneliness, instead he had John, sleeping peacefully curled at his side. It was perfection. _John_ was perfection. For the first time in Sherlock’s messed up life, he felt truly blessed.

**Author's Note:**

> Those two deserve to be happy


End file.
